It was a brand new year, 1961. I was in the prime of my youth and active in church. My parents had just moved over from Florida and gotten an apartment in a Bronx sector of New York city. It was a cozy but large apartment with three bedrooms, a comfortable living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. Down the long corridor on the way to the exit door apart from the rest of the rooms, my bedroom stood alone. Therefore, as mentioned, the rest of the house stood far away from my bedroom. My bedroom overlooked Simpson street way up from the fourth floor. At the bottom of the building stood a night bar where brawling was the rule every night and screaming, yelling, knifings, and blood were no exception. I was not afraid of anything for I was a brave youth with a solid foundation in the Christian faith. Therefore, nothing touched me. So I thought. One night, not long after we moved there, as I came home from church, after having served as an interpreter to a preacher, I said my prayers, shut the light from a thin string that hung straight down over my bed and as usual, happily went to sleep. No sooner than I closed my eyes, I felt the sensation that my bed was been lifted from the foot and raised in the air about two feet up. That is high. However, I shrugged it off as probably an imbalance of my system for not having taken the time to get a snack before lying down to sleep. After feeling a couple of these imbalances and not paying any attention to them, I fell into a deep sleep and never felt anything else. Next day I got up as usual and went through the routine before breakfast and then to school. That day I never gave that sensation a second thought, again shrugging it off as something wrong with my system. However, that night when I got ready for bed, as I sat in bed with my Bible opened and while reading a passage, the bed arose again, this time to my chilling surprise, for I saw it. What shriek me the most was the fact that this time the light was still on. Well, I said to myself, Self, this is a job for Jesus. At that moment, the best of my brave hero came out in me and I started to pray for whatever this spirit was, to leave and continue to its next level wherever that happened to be. I had read plenty about this type of thing, but had never experienced it. Moreover, I knew they were real cause it is biblical. Only, I was not prepared for something like this to be happening in the middle of a great city like New York city and much less so close to me. I did not want to tell my parents anything, nor my brothers, or my church friends. I kept it to myself, thinking that this spirit would see how brave I was been and that it would not scared me off just that easy. However, the bugging persisted from spring to summer to autumn to winter. Therefore, my hammering prayers, and authority persisted over the pestering of this lost soul. One cold winter morning, about two in the morning, I woke up standing with the chill of the wind hitting my face in the open window sill ready to jump to my death 4 floors down. Lucky for me, the chilled wind woke me up just in time. At this time, I knew I was in trouble with a very desperate spirit definitely trying to get his or her room back. After saying my usual exorcising prayers, I shut the window and laid back to sleep as peacefully as if nothing. The spirit usually left me alone for the night but prepared to attack again the next night. The poltergeist continued to try me and tried me he or she did. However, I would not flinch an inch. I continued my quiet battle in hopes that I could win this one. Nevertheless, to no avail. One day, nearing three years since we moved in that apartment, a brother of mine, who lived in Pennsylvania, came to invite me to move with him and work with him in his company. I welcomed this invitation with open arms. I knew I was leaving my torment behind. And, the fact that I was just on standby, for the US Air Force was getting ready to send me my acceptance card. So, I moved. I worked three months with my brother before the Air Force accepted me. I was sent to Lackland, for six months before been stationed at Del Rio, Texas, where I prepared my trade. It was from here that I was called to Vietnam. I never mentioned anything to anyone about my poltergeist. I always kept it under my hat. However, while I was in Vietnam, my immediate family, whom I had left in the Bronx, moved to Pennsylvania near the brother I left behind. Next year upon my return from Vietnam, I took leave for 30 days. Therefore, it was proper to go and stay with my parents. It was during this time that I heard for the first time anything about ghosts in that Bronx apartment. My father one day approached me and asked me, Louie, did you ever felt anything strange or wrong in that bedroom of yours in that apartment in Simpson St? I answered, Dad, as a matter of fact, I felt the presence of something strange in there, but thought never to tell you anything in fear that you all would panic. My father went on to fill me in on the details of what he knew. So happens, that in that very room where I was getting ready to be thrown out of the window by a very mean spirit, a prostitute was butchered one night. Then my father explained something to me before I got a chance to tell of my adventures with that room. One night, just before I arrived from church, just ahead of my arrival, he was reading a selection of the Reader’s Digest. He was so focused on what he was reading that he did not noticed when I entered the door from the street, headed straight to my room without saying anything to anyone, and turned on the light with the string. That is when he disenchanted from his reading and decided to come and ask me how come I had not said hello when I entered and to chew me up for my quiet negligence. To his surprise that stormy winter night, when he entered my totally sealed room, the light had come on and the string was wildly swinging from left to right but as he called my name, I did not answer. Then he though that I was hiding and playing games. At 2 in the morning? But his confirmation that I wasn’t playing games came five minutes later when I did unlocked the entrance door and hollered my usual proud hello and headed to the kitchen for my milk. From there it was all mum according to him in fear that I would not want to sleep in the room, but the house had not anywhere else for me to sleep. My father did expressed that his hair rising chilling experience that night made him retreat to his room to pray. Me? I did my usual that night as well as every night, for in that room I had an encounter of some strange kind, which I had to straighten up with my bravery prayer and Bible reading. That was where my strength came from, from God who made the heavens and the earth. And no stinking, two-bit, ghost was about to steal that from me. No siree.